A Temporary Diversion
by TVFanoftheYear
Summary: She was only supposed to be in D.C. for a week, but when Shane's temporary reassignment gets unexpectedly extended, she starts to miss her friends back home.
1. Complications

Shane was exhausted. She had been in Washington, D.C. for 10 days now providing technical assistance consulting to the IT division. They were implementing a new computer managed delivery system with the intent to roll the system out nationwide. Some technical glitches prevented the new and old programs from translating information properly between them had extended her temporary reassignment order from one week to potentially two or three.

She had been hesitant to accept Becky's initial offer, but was dying to see her again after her visit to Denver more than six months ago. The offer seemed more and more attractive the longer she thought about it. Besides, it was getting Shane back to her postal roots to some degree and she wanted to see if she still had what it took to hang with her D.C. counterparts.

"I think that sounds like a wonderful opportunity," Oliver had said.

Shane broke the news to Norman, Rita and Oliver one afternoon between "missions" as Norman liked to call them.

"It certainly sounds exciting!" Rita chimed in, always a source of support.

"Well, when Washington calls…" Shane laughed, "It should only be for about a week. I'll be back before you know it."

Oliver, who had been standing behind his desk, made his way around to the front, leaning against it before folding his arms.

"A week is enough time for another important letter to providentially find its way to our office and prompt personal delivery, Miss McInerney. How are we to complete our appointed tasks without your invaluable services?" Oliver questioned teasingly.

"Well we could always Skype, Oliver," Shane replied playfully. "You do know what that is, right?" She continued, making her way to her mobile workspace.

Oliver tried very hard to repress the smile tugging at his lips. And though he couldn't see it, Shane was attempting to do the same.

"Indeed, I do, Miss McInerney."

Those were the moments she remembered as she tried to regroup her team, charged with running diagnostics on this new system to identify and begin resolving the issues that plagued it at 9pm on a Friday.

"Alright people, we're already 3 days outside our launch window-it's going to be a long night," She said to the five other technical assistance consultance drafted from across the country to aid in the efforts and of which Becky had placed her in charge.

"Does this mean I'm back on coffee duty?" A voice questioned, slightly exasperated.

All eyes were drawn to the opposite side of the room where a brunette with glasses, hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, no older than 17 or 18 years of age, made her presence known by standing.

"Unfortunately for you-fortunately for us-yes, Kennedy, you are," another voice replied.

Jackson Hines, the Chief Information Officer for the District of Columbia Main Branch, didn't hesitate to put the teenager in her place.

Unfortunately for Shane, this was an area over which she had no control. Kennedy's internship was to be overseen by one supervisor and one supervisor only-Jackson. That hadn't prevented Shane from working with Kennedy over the past 10 days, but it did mean she was subject to whatever restrictions Jackson placed on her direct involvement in the work. It seemed counterintuitive to the point of an internship, but it was something for which Shane had little recourse. Kennedy was bright, so seeing her potential stifled was a little frustrating.

"Team, let's get back to work," Shane directed. Laptops began to open and Kennedy, with as much grace as she could muster, began taking coffee orders.

Shane returned to her section of code, but as she did the term "zip code" crossed her mind, and her thoughts drifted back to Denver-to Rita, Norman and Oliver.

She had spent the early part of her career doing exactly what she was doing now, writing code and performing maintenance tasks on the computer managed delivery systems. But somehow, only returning for a brief stint, she suddenly began to miss the unpredictability of the DLO. She missed the human element above all, both in the letters they delivered and the people she worked with.

She wondered what they were up to. Was it business as usual, or did they have another mystery on their hands? Was Norman piecing clues together with one of his volumes upon volumes of directories and registries? Was Rita reciting a letter back to Oliver and Norman, the words sounding like poetry? Was Oliver, in between tasks, looking towards her workspace only to be reminded she was on the other side of the country-?

"Half-Caff Vanilla Latte?"

Shane was drawn back to reality by Kennedy's offer of liquid fuel.

"Thanks, Kennedy."

Having delivered her last coffee, Kennedy alleviated herself of the drink carrier and pulled out a chair at the table next to Shane.

"Any luck?" She said, pushing her glasses gingerly further back up on her nose.

"None yet." Shane replied, refocusing her efforts.

_Shhhhhh_

The sound drew Shane's attention back to Kennedy.

"What?"

And that's when she saw it, in all its yellow and blue labeling and chocolate milk goodness.

"Where did you get that?" She said.

"Don't tell Jackson. I know he said to go to the coffee shop and come straight back, but I was really thirsty and stopped off to get a Yoohoo-you're not gonna say anything, are you?" Kennedy implored.

"I prefer to say as little as possible to your mentor," Shane replied. "It's just that I know someone who has an affinity for them back home. He has at least one every day-"

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"No."

"Then why are your cheeks turning pink?"

"Kennedy, don't you have some intern task you could go do…." Shane intimated, hoping the teen would avoid any further probing.

"Okay, okay-but I can't help it I'm curious," Kennedy relented, but didn't move a muscle. She just stared at Shane intently.

And Shane could feel Kennedy's eyes boring into her.

Shane bit, "You won't leave my side until I answer your question, will you?"

"It's your choice, and I know you can multi-task….and it's gonna be a long night. Why not a little girl chat?"

Shane looked around the room, once more reminded that this cohort did not, in fact, include any other women.

"It's complicated, and that's all the answer you're entitled to," Shane responded.

"Is he handsome?"

Shane looked around the room, wondering if her answer would be overheard. It would not, as every other one of her colleagues had opted for headphones while they worked to concentrate.

What could it hurt to engage this young person whom she somehow felt was a kindred spirit, even at her young age?

"Yes."

"Got a picture?"

Shane had no idea what possessed her to not only facilitate, but also encourage, the curiosity of this intern. She just really liked her. She fished her phone out of her laptop bag and searched her phone for a shot of her, Oliver, Rita and Norman at a ski resort in Veil. They had delivered a letter to the owner of a ski resort there, who graciously allowed the foursome to stay a few days, which they gratefully accepted. They had had a really good time, and Shane insisted they take a group selfie. She wanted some record of the time she was spending with these wonderful people who had become like family.

"That's him," Shane confirmed, her finger pointed to a very happy Oliver in one of those plaid lumberjack hats with the earflaps-they all four had them.

"But he's not your boyfriend?" Kennedy seemed excessively confused.

"No, because, like I said before, it's complicated."

"Well is he married?"

"Not anymore-"

"Single?"

"Yes, but-"

"What's the problem?!" Kennedy whispered fiercely, "He's so good looking!"

"The problem it…it's complicated!" Shane whispered back.

"Excuses, excuses…." Kennedy taunted.

"He's a gentleman. It's not my responsibility to make the first move," Shane defended.

"So you _do_ have feelings for him?"

"I have indulged your curiosity enough for one night, missy," Shane said, putting a stop to it. She really needed to get back to the task at hand.

Kennedy started to get up and move on to another task.

"Take the Yoohoo," Shane directed, seeming to notice Kennedy leaving it there as some sort of reminder of her "complication." She could see right through this girl. And it frustrated her in a laughable way because all Shane could see was herself.

"As you wish," Kennedy said, pleased with herself and not afraid to non-verbally admit what she had knowingly done.


	2. Wish You Were Here

It was a thought that had crossed her mind several times, but that this intern had managed to thrust to the forefront.

_Why not just write him-them-a letter?_

So Shane, running on only 4 hours sleep, was up bright and early at 8am at a local paper store buying stationary to write a letter to her friends in Denver. She felt like she had something she had to and wanted to say to these people that she had traveled with and spent time with in ways she had never done before, all in the name of delivering letters that made a difference in people's lives.

Could she have picked up a phone and called them? Probably.

Could she have drafted an email? Easily.

But today, exasperated at the advent of computers if only because they were the reason for her extended absence from her own bed and her own, less tech-oriented and far more dynamic day job, all Shane wanted to do was communicate clearly and concisely with other human beings in the form of the written word.

So during her lunch break, in the HQ Café, affectionately known as "The Triangle," Shane sat down to write. She had no plans for what she would say, but the sheer action of putting pen to paper was cathartic.

* * *

13 days.

By Oliver's count, that was exactly how long it had been since Miss McInerney had been recalled to the nation's capital in aid of the United States Postal Service.

He hadn't meant to notice-but it was hard not to. The energy of the DLO was slightly-off. And each day, as Oliver passed the threshold into their inner sanctum, Miss McInerney's work station noticeably empty, he was forced to contend with that atmospheric imbalance.

It wasn't something he shared with Rita or Norman, though he could tell they sensed a similar void. Unfortunately for them, there was little that could be done about the situation but await her return.

"Uh, excuse me," A voice said.

Rita, Norman and Oliver's attention was drawn to the recently opened doors.

"I have a letter for this office," a teenager, no more than 17 or 18, continued.

"Has it been properly processed?" Oliver inquired.

"Yes, but not here."

By this time Oliver had risen from his desk to meet their visitor, his curiosity rising.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it's addressed to this office," the young man continued, handing the letter over.

Rita and Norman, in their piqued curiosity, joined Oliver.

"Thank you very much, young man, we'll take it from here," Oliver thanked him.

"Postal Museum 2014 Commemorative stamp," Norman observed.

"Care of Dead Letters," Rita read aloud.

Oliver suddenly had a feeling about this letter, "It's from Shane."

He made his way back to the desk for one of his many letter openers. He realized immediately that he seemed uncharacteristically eager to open the letter, and made a conscious effort to slow down.

Oliver was impressed. As he retrieved Shane's letter from the envelope, he noted the high quality paper and her rather lovely penmanship. It was exciting to see, and even more so since it was addressed, apparently, to the Dead Letter Office.

Rita and Norman gathered around expectantly.

Oliver cleared his throat, a smile tugging at his lips even at her greeting.

_Dear Fellow POstables,_

_Greetings from Washington, D.C.! Hopefully by the time you read this I will be back at the Denver office working alongside you again. It's been quite a long week and a half and I'm looking forward to returning to our elite team of postal detectives._

_It's rare that I'm reminded just how complicated our little enterprise is than when I'm forced to work on the mechanisms that facilitate it. This project is one of those rare occasions. Our initial tests on the new system have not been as successful as anticipated, and every new challenge almost ensures an extension of my trip. But even so, I am reminded each day how important, and even therapeutic, it can be to sit down and put pen to paper._

_As I'm doing this, I should probably tell you that they have something here a lot like our Mailbox Grille that they call "The Triangle." I wish you guys could see this place-it isn't anything like a triangle. Apparently it's some kind of inside joke around here that no one really knows quite what the joke is. Their breakfasts aren't as good as ours are-but that's not the point._

_The point is that I miss you all and I wish I could be there. Better yet, I wish you were here._

_See you soon,_

_Shane_

_P.S. Oliver- you'll appreciate this-I have met another person who shares your affinity for Yoohoo. She's an intern here with a lot of potential and I think you two would get along great!_

"We wish you were here, too," Rita sighed.

"I'm sure she doesn't mean she wishes we were there. If we were all in Washington, D.C., who would be here to watch the office?" Norman pondered aloud.

Oliver, at least at this point, hadn't quite listened to anything past Shane's admission that she wished they could all be together again. He wasn't sure why "I wish you were here" grabbed his attention in quite the way it had. Oliver had almost heard Shane in his head while he was reading the letter, but when it got to that point it felt like she was somehow speaking to him directly, not to mention her mention of Yoohoo, which would always get his attention.

It was at that point an idea popped into Oliver's head. It was highly irregular and perhaps even presumptuous to some extent. The more it had the opportunity to sink in, though, the more he felt a very deep conviction that it should, indeed, be something he pursued.

"Rita, remind me how much vacation I have," Oliver asked.

She took a minute to think, "18 weeks, 6 days."


	3. Girl Talk

"So, Shaney, tell me-how much do you love being back?"

It always made Shane feel better to see Becky, and she was grateful to be somewhere other than in front of her computer for once in her life. Sitting outside on the plaza, the warmth of the sun on her face and a raspberry lemonade in hand was doing a world of good for her mental health at that exact moment.

"I do- but it's definitely different," Shane began, choosing her words carefully because the offer to come to D.C. had been Becky's idea and she didn't want to sound ungrateful or critical.

"After joining the Dead Letter Office, I started to forget about the technical minutiae of computer managed delivery systems. I really like being able to put all my skills to use-but not like I used to when technical assistance consulting was my primary role. The realization has been this weird thing that's happened to me over the past two weeks," Shane explained.

"You use them now to change people's lives," Becky replied, "The PG doesn't pass out Dark of Night awards to just anyone, Shaney."

Shane smiled, "That's very true. Still can't believe that happened. I know you had something to do with it."

"Don't look at me. The world has a mysterious way of putting things together…" Becky's tone suggested she was about to change the subject and Shane could feel it coming and the direction it was going in.

"You know, Oliver polishes our awards at least once a week now," Shane offered. If this conversation was going to take place, it would do so on her terms.

"Is that so? That's interesting…"

"What is?" Shane replied, slightly confused.

"That you would bring him up."

"Why?"

"Mostly because I didn't ask. But since you've brought it up I can ask you anything-"

Shane wondered how she misread the direction of the conversation. Perhaps she was projecting?

"Last time we talked he was waiting on his wife to return from Paris, and you were supposed to be getting yourself back into circulation. Which one of those things have you focused your attention on since then?" Becky responded, knowing Shane well enough to surmise the answer.

And Shane took too long to respond, making the answer obvious.

"_Oh, Shaney_…." Becky replied, a little exasperated.

"Becky, I spend so much time with Oliver, Rita and Norman going from place to place and delivering letters-your doing, I will remind you-that I don't have time to date. Whatever happens beyond that is purely a product of divine intervention."

"But he's married-"

"Things have changed," Shane said simply, "And his marital status is one of them."

"Well that's quite the development," Becky admitted, leaning forward in her chair out of increasing interest.

"We're just friend, Becky. But I will admit we are closer friends than we were six months ago."

"Do you think he's interested?" Becky probed. Her last conversation with Oliver, right before she had bestowed the Dark of Night award upon him and his team, he had said something that stuck with her, "The truth shall set you free." Of course she knew it was a bible verse and it was in response to her admission that she'd told Shane the truth about Oliver overhearing their conversation. But somehow she had gotten the distinct feeling they were talking about more truths than were readily apparent.

"I don't know," Shane sighed. It was a question she wrestled with herself. Sometimes she thought she saw something, other times she was simply drawn to him in that inexplicable way that she had been from day one. Somewhere deep inside, she could feel the energy shifting slowly but deliberately between her and Oliver. Where it would go next was a mystery to her.

"Well it's very clear to me that even if you don't know if he's interested, you certainly are."

"And if he was, he is well within his rights to do something about it."

"Sometimes men just need a little push."

"No pushing!" Shane whispered fiercely in the midst of an embarrassed laugh, "None. Whatsoever."

"I really should have required your taskforce to check in with me more often…" Becky taunted.

"As much as I would love to sit here and debate my life choices with you-I need to get back to work," Shane concluded.

"Yeah, I bet you do…." Becky replied.

"But before I do, there's an intern I'd like to talk to you about…."

* * *

_Day 14._

It was the first thought that crossed Shane's mind as she sat down at the head of the conference room table just after her midday break with Becky. As the lead on the taskforce, she was required to write a report for the Postmaster General's Office on their progress.

The funny thing about coming back to D.C. was that while she got a chance to catch up with Becky, an overwhelming majority of her time had been spent sitting in the same internal conference room with no view of the outside and limited interaction with the outside world to the extent it could be helped. Shane suspected a fair amount of texting and tweeting was taking place among her colleagues, but when the people you'd most like communicate with for the most part disavow those modes of interaction, one isn't left with many options.

"Goodafternoon!"

Shane's attentions turned to a rather chipper Kennedy, Yoohoo in hand, reporting for her afternoon internship duties.

"Hello, Kennedy. Good to see our late night didn't turn you into a zombie today," Shane greeted.

"I know, right? I just woke up this morning really upbeat. It's hard to explain, but it's like something inside me anticipates it being a really good day. So far, it has," Kennedy replied.

Shane knew exactly that feeling. Though she would have probably described it as an overwhelming feeling of being alive, entered and firmly grounded to what's real and true and good in the world. At least that's how she felt each day going into the Dead Letter Office. That was the irony of working in the Dead Letter Office-nothing about it was dead, instead it carried the very essence of life in and out of its doors each day, Shane and her colleagues the careful stewards.

"I know what you mean," she replied simply.

Kennedy pulled out a chair next to Shane and sat down, pulling out her laptop, "So what are we doing this afternoon?"

"What do you mean, what are we doing? I'm drafting a progress report for the PG's office and you're doing whatever Jackson has assigned you to."

"Jackson isn't assigning me anything anymore. I got called into the Chief Summer Associate Supervisor's office at like, 8am. She told me I'd been recommended for the Executive Summer Program," Kennedy squealed, "They're going to pay me and I've been assigned to this taskforce as an analyst!"

Shane tried to process what Kennedy was telling her. She knew she'd put in a good word for her with Becky, but this was certainly a definitive upgrade. All she had suggested was a transfer of supervision.

"Well, congratulations, Kennedy-that's excellent."

"It's a dream come true is what it is. Both my mom and dad were in the executive program. Now they each have supervisory positions at different post offices here in the D.C. area. It was kind of a disappointment to them when I got the internship rather than this program. They didn't say that, of course, but I could tell they were hoping for more. You know I could go almost anywhere in the system once I graduate college if this goes well?" Kennedy explained.

"That I do," Shane replied, "But if you're going to be one of my analysts, you're going to need a second monitor. Do you know where to get one from?"

"Yeah, no problem."

Shane had to admit she was kind of excited for Kennedy-and for the fresh pair of eyes.

_Maybe, just maybe…._

"Hey, Shane, come here!" Kennedy whispered fiercely from the doorway.

"What? Why?"

"You're gonna want to see this. There's this _really_ good looking guy in the hallway…"

"Kennedy, this is not the time."

"And he looks kind of familiar-He's looking for….well, you…"

"Nice try," she scoffed. If she thought she was going to make her look-she had another thing coming.

"I've never seen more color coordination in my life. Wow, he looks good in a suit," Kennedy swooned.

Now she had Shane's attention. She joined Kennedy at the door, but when she peaked around the frame she was speechless.


	4. Special Delivery

Shane ducked back into the conference room and dragged Kennedy with her before Oliver had a chance to see either of them.

"What are you doing?!" Kennedy whispered fiercely, not sure why she was assisting in hiding Shane when there was a perfectly handsome man walking towards their conference room.

"I don't know-," Shane whimpered.

There was a light knock on the door.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for-Miss McInerney," OIiver greeted, a boyish smile spreading across his face. It was as if he'd expected more time to prepare for actually seeing her than he had walking into the room.

It was everything Shane could do to prevent herself from launching into a slew of questions, or giving away that she'd already seen him. She managed with a nervous laugh, "Oliver! What a surprise!"

She could see Kennedy behind him rolling her eyes. Apparently her performance wasn't convincing the teenager.

It was only then that Shane noticed the square vase containing a small arrangement of assorted purple flowers and some white roses Oliver was clutching. Her gaze must have reminded Oliver he had them because he closed the distance between them and sat the arrangement next to her laptop.

"These are for you," he gestured, obviously proud.

"And they are lovely, Oliver-and unexpected. Kind of like you...here...in D.C." Shane continued on, trying desperately to rid them of the elephant in the room. She had never felt as quite off guard as she did standing there in front of Oliver in a conference room that only seemed to get smaller by the second.

"You certainly are to the point, Miss McInerney. Your letter seemed to indicate that you were in need of some company, and since it is high time Norman have the opportunity to manage the daily goings on of the Dead Letter Office, it seemed an appropriate time to take some vacation," Oliver explained.

"How did you even find me?" Shane asked, realizing there was no way he just happened upon the USPS headquarters.

"Well, upon arriving in Washington, I made a call to Miss Starkwell," Oliver explained. "She was very helpful."

"Yep, that's Becky-always a helper," Shane laughed, starting to wonder if her friend had known about Oliver's presence in D.C. when she had invited Shane for lunch.

"Oh, and, of course, Norman and Rita send their regards," Oliver added, slightly embarrassed he had almost forgotten to pass them along, "Your prolonged absence has been deeply felt."

And then another one of those moments happened. One of those moments where Shane sensed the subtle shift in his tone and meaning, but her brain refused to complete an interpretation. He looked desperate to say something, but afraid he had already said too much, the happy medium hanging somewhere in the space between them.

A cough broke the pregnant silence.

"Oh, Oliver, this is Kennedy," Shane sputtered. "She's an intern here-recently accepted into the Executive Program."

"Congratulations, Kennedy. It's a pleasure to meet the bright future of our timeless institution," Oliver said, extending his hand.

Kennedy shook it back, her cheeks impossibly red. "I really like Yoohoo," she admitted, the randomness of the statement dawning on her immediately, causing her to chastise herself internally.

"So you must be the young lady Miss McInerney referred to in her letter. It's always nice to meet a fellow enthusiast," Oliver replied.

As he responded, a flurry of facial expressions passed between Shane and Kennedy. Kennedy surprised Shane had mentioned her in a letter and Shane attempting to shoe the teenager away.

"Kennedy, don't you think it's about time you went and got that monitor we were discussing earlier?" Shane reminded her.

Kennedy fumbled for a minute, trying to figure out how she could opt not to get the monitor and continue to watch the situation unfolding in front of her. She gave up.

"Yes, yes...it is," the teen nodded, walking backwards out the door to miss as little as possible as she departed.

"So, how are things back at the DLO?" Shane continued, wondering whether or not Kennedy was actually retrieving the monitor or had merely resorted to eavesdropping from the hallway.

"They are well. Mostly business as usual. But there was a minor scare on the sorted floor the other day that cleared the building. Apparently a college student decided to mail themselves various baking supplies, one of which bore a resemblance to a potentially dangerous substance for which the local health department was called in to investigate," Oliver explained, a laugh escaping his lips. "It was only powdered sugar."

"They probably just wanted to make some peanut butter and banana pancakes with a little topping," Shane replied with a smile.

"It's funny you should say that, because after we were allowed back into the building it was about time for dinner. Norman suggested we go to that diner down the street that serves breakfast all day for exactly that," Oliver remembered, "They were very good."

"Of course he did," Shane laughed.

"And how are things here? Have you and your cohorts made any progress?"

Shane sighed, "Unfortunately, no, we haven't-at least none that will make this program run like we need it to. In fact, we may have to start all over to try another algorithm..."

"I assume that will impact the...duration of your stay?" Oliver questioned, keenly aware that his question almost sounded like a plea for her to come home. He wasn't sure where that had come from and wondered if his companion had picked up on it.

"Unfortunately, yes," Shane replied regrettably, "But we will press on. And when we do succeed, the United States Postal Service will be a more efficient and cost effective institution."

"Spoken like a true postal visionary, Miss McInerney."

Shane smiled.

And then the silence settled in. Neither Shane nor Oliver seemed sure where to take things from there. Oliver had traveled all that way, and while he claimed it was to allow Norman the chance to oversee the DLO on his own, Shane could feel pieces missing. Wasn't it his responsibility to fill them in? Did she dare ask?

Shane wasn't brave enough to break the silence-but Oliver was.

"It truly is wonderful to see you, Shane."

It wasn't lost on her that Oliver had used her first name, but she wasn't prepared to make a decision about what that crucial detail signaled.

"Being here has certainly made me miss you-all," Shane replied, the subtle slip-and its correction-written all over her face.

And in that second it was as if the heavens opened up and the moment Oliver had been praying for since he stepped off the plane at Reagan International Airport had arrived. It was long overdue, and he was confident and at peace with the action he was about to take in a way he wasn't sure he had ever been before.

"Miss McInerney," Oliver began, "do you have any plans this evening for dinner?"

Shane stopped breathing for a minute, her eyes subtly widening at his words.

"-Because if you're available, I would very much like for you to accompany me-I am sure even the most dedicated of postal visionaries must eat at some point," he smiled a nervous smile, as if suddenly realizing he was handing Shane his future somehow.

Shane could tell just how far out his comfort zone he was stepping-what she didn't understand is why this dinner invitation felt different. They had had dinner together before, at the Mailbox Grille, at various places in different cities and states their postal adventures had taken them over the past year. Eating dinner together was as common as air or water or grass.

This time was different.


End file.
